OBI STRIP, SILK SCREEN, AND NUMBERED!
PALMSPREE RECORDS EXCLUSIVE 100 COPIES
The premise of I Am An Instrument is simple and radical: no set lists, no arrangements, no safety net. Every record is a document of musicians surrendering entirely to the moment — modal jazz sensibility colliding with dub space and texture, recorded live as a single unfolding event. Wonder, Wander is the album where that philosophy deepens into something more searching. The title says it: it’s music that doesn’t arrive — it moves, it drifts, it discovers.
This isn’t a band that rehearses its improvisation. The tension on the record is real.
Joe Armon-Jones appears on this album — not as a featured guest in the conventional sense, but as a full participant in the improvisation.
The backstory is simple: Steve says "I met him backstage while he was setting up for a gig, handed him a bag of vinyl, and discovered he already had some of my productions in his collection. That moment of mutual recognition turned into a conversation, and eventually into a session." He came over to Copenhagen, surrendered to the process like everyone else, and what’s on the record is what happened.
We’re rooted in Copenhagen’s experimental underground, with connections running from Afro-beat to dub to spiritual jazz. Not easy to categorise, which is exactly how we like it!
OBI STRIP, SILK SCREEN, AND NUMBERED!
PALMSPREE RECORDS EXCLUSIVE 100 COPIES
The premise of I Am An Instrument is simple and radical: no set lists, no arrangements, no safety net. Every record is a document of musicians surrendering entirely to the moment — modal jazz sensibility colliding with dub space and texture, recorded live as a single unfolding event. Wonder, Wander is the album where that philosophy deepens into something more searching. The title says it: it’s music that doesn’t arrive — it moves, it drifts, it discovers.
This isn’t a band that rehearses its improvisation. The tension on the record is real.
Joe Armon-Jones appears on this album — not as a featured guest in the conventional sense, but as a full participant in the improvisation.
The backstory is simple: Steve says "I met him backstage while he was setting up for a gig, handed him a bag of vinyl, and discovered he already had some of my productions in his collection. That moment of mutual recognition turned into a conversation, and eventually into a session." He came over to Copenhagen, surrendered to the process like everyone else, and what’s on the record is what happened.
We’re rooted in Copenhagen’s experimental underground, with connections running from Afro-beat to dub to spiritual jazz. Not easy to categorise, which is exactly how we like it!